


Your Ache Is My Sweetness

by ButterfliesAndPenguins



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Accidental Kissing, Confessions, Don't worry they kiss, Ferdinand working through his feelings on heteronomativity and loving Hubert anyway, First Kiss, Hubert running from his feelings, LITERALLY, M/M, Mutual Pining, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterfliesAndPenguins/pseuds/ButterfliesAndPenguins
Summary: Hubert unintentionally ruins Ferdinand's first kiss, and Ferdinand nearly ruins his chance at a second one...---“I love you, Hubert. Fiercely so. Frighteningly, in fact… I have not the words for it.” Ferdinand laughs sheepishly.Hubert breathes a small laugh as well, shaking his head as if he could expect nothing less. His smile changes shape, as if he cannot hold it back any longer, and he leans in again.“Then for once in your life, Ferdinand, do not speak.”
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 12
Kudos: 225





	Your Ache Is My Sweetness

“Oh,  _ saints _ , it is miserably cold! _ Brr… _ ” Ferdinand stomps his boots loudly as he and Hubert duck in the door frame of a back entrance to the monastery, returning from an evening errand. He bats the winter rainwater off the shoulders of his coat and sees Hubert wincing as he peels off his soaked gloves. He attempts some minor spell, but it sparks and smokes faintly. Ferdinand has been his colleague long enough to know that his magic-worn fingers become stiff and painful in winter weather. He frets, crowding Hubert in the doorway just as it closes behind them.

“You’ll catch cold soaked to the bone like that,” Ferdinand fusses. “Here,” he clasps Hubert’s numbed fingers in his own and concentrates, trying to conjure faint magic to warm them. If only he could remember his old lessons…

“That’s just an old wives’ tale,” Hubert grumbles, hands attempting to twitch away.

“Nonsense, would you rather risk being in bed with a fever in the morning? Who would serve Lady Edelgard’s every whim then?” Ferdinand needles him, working the spell in his hands more firmly, determined to succeed. 

Hubert skeptically watches crimson sparks jump between his fingers, looking as if he is about to pull away at the risk of a spell backfiring in Ferdinand’s unwelcome hands. But for some reason he allows it to continue.

Ferdinand manages to create some reddish steam, at best, partially drying his hands. He smiles hopefully, trying to stifle his embarrassment and likely only succeeding in a childishly hopeful grimace. “Almost there now…”

He finishes the last of his botched spell, instead opting to gently rub some life back into Hubert’s fingers with his own hands. He holds them close to his face, letting his breath warm them both. He briefly wonders why Hubert is allowing this—usually he protests at most physical contact with anyone—when he raises his eyes to see Hubert’s face hovering anxiously close to his.

Ferdinand’s eyes go round with surprise, but he does not move. He has never seen Hubert’s face so close before, never seen such muted questions behind the shadows in his eyes. He notices something he has never seen in the man’s face before—Hubert’s eyes are wide with apprehension.

It happens almost in reverse. He is aware of something blurred before him, then a pressure at his lips. Has Hubert closed a hand over his mouth to shush him? Then, as his eyes remain unfocused and something shifts, he realizes it is Hubert’s mouth that has closed the small space between them. He is frozen to the spot as Hubert kisses his unmoving lips. 

Has he missed something? Could this be some kind of accident? Or worse, has Ferdinand somehow lost control of himself and become someone who kisses people unannounced? And with the one person he has specifically been trying to hold back those kind of impulses around, no less…

Hubert is abruptly aware of Ferdinand’s unresponsiveness and suddenly the air around them changes. Hubert pulls back sharply, blinking quickly, the scant color draining from his face and turning his skin even greyer. He looks as if he might be sick. Ferdinand feels much the same, stunned and still unsure what has just happened. He realizes too late that the look on his own face must be as fearful and suspicious as he feels, and sees Hubert’s posture seize up in confirmation of this.

Several things happen at once, just as Ferdinand begins to put some pieces together in his mind. He instantly regrets gawking, he regrets not recognizing this sooner. He regrets tempting fate and practically  _ fondling _ Hubert’s hands without any reason except his inexorable instinct to be closer to Hubert at all times. However, Hubert refuses to meet his eyes and jerks his hands away, looking like a black cat with his hackles rising defensively.

“It appears I was horribly mistaken, my apologies,” he mutters venomously. “I’ll take my leave.”

The words sting like a knife at his throat. Suddenly Ferdinand is being rejected for a confession he has never even had a chance to give. One he has long kept locked away inside him for a hundred reasons. As the black cloak swirls away, he turns and dashes through the monastery after it, before it disappears down the hallway to Hubert’s room. His boots clatter against the stone as he sprints after Hubert, grateful almost no one is around at this late hour as he shouts after him.

“WAIT, HUBERT! WE NEED TO TALK!”

His cries fall on deaf ears. If anything, it seems to hasten the dark man’s steps. Ferdinand is furious.

“HUBERT VON VESTRA, YOU COME BACK HERE AND… AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!”

They both burst into to his study, and Ferdinand flings himself in the doorway, preventing Hubert from shutting him out or escaping without a word. They are breathing heavily, both with the exertion and the agitation that is flowing freely between them like a current. Ferdinand stands his ground and pounds a hand on the door frame, barring any exit.

“You owe me an explanation, as a gentleman at the very least!”

Hubert scoffs, rolling his eyes as he catches his breath.

“Well... as a man of your word, then.”   
  
Hubert smirks. “You know full well I am neither of those.”

“Then…” Ferdinand fumes, feeling desperate now, knowing his chance is slipping away, “please… as a friend.”

Hubert is genuinely taken aback. He looks like he is considering something, a bit like skimming the room for an escape, but also like he’s desperate to find something he’s lost. 

“Is that what is between us?” He asks, stalling distractedly. “Friendship?”

Ferdinand wonders if the reason they could never rest anywhere between rivals and friendship was this—the dissatisfaction with either. The combativeness would always be there from trying to maneuver around  _ this _ , either trying to dodge it, or gain the upper hand. Has Hubert always refused to trust him because every kindness still felt like a betrayal? Has Ferdinand been deflecting all their opportunities at reconciling because he was always secretly afraid it might lead him to this?

Ferdinand huffs and folds his arms, knowing his time is short. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “When we kissed—when you kissed me just now, did you mean it? You were not mocking me? I know you think little of me sometimes, but surely you would not just ridicule me by exploiting my feelings for—er, what I mean is…”

“Your  _ what _ ?” Hubert whispers, freezing suddenly.

“I—if this is some kind of mistake Hubert, speak plainly, I beg of you!” 

Hubert watches him with wide eyes, somewhere between fear and annoyed disbelief. It rubs at Ferdinand like a burr trapped beneath his clothes.  _ What is the meaning of this? Does Hubert have some kind of feelings for him, or doesn’t he?  _

“This—this isn’t something I care to discuss at the moment—”

Ferdinand laughs with a tinge of mania from his rapidly fraying nerves. “You kissed  _ me _ with no warning _ , _ and now you do not wish to discuss it? Hubert von Vestra, running away like a coward?”

Wait—this is bad. This is only getting worse every time Ferdinand opens his mouth. He kicks himself for quickly ruining this chance to tell Hubert his true feelings.  _ Shifting the blame back to Hubert… who is being the coward now, von Aegir? _

“If your only aim is to insult me, have you had your fill? May I go now?” Hubert sneers.

“Wait, Hubert—I’m sorry, that’s not what I—Please, allow me to explain…”

“I’ve heard enough,” Hubert mumbles, turning and starting away.

“ _ Please _ , if you’d just listen, I have something to confess to you—” Ferdinand reaches for Hubert’s arm, but he rolls his shoulder and shrugs him off.

“ _ Hubert! _ ” Ferdinand cries out, panic and emotion breaking in his voice. “Please, you must hear me out…”

Hubert glances back over his shoulder and for a moment Ferdinand thinks he may relent. But something like pain crosses his brow and he turns away, heading for the door. 

_ No.  _ Ferdinand von Aegir cannot accept this. He knows Hubert keeps his intentions under heavy concealment, and he knows there will not be another chance at this. He can sense the tense emotion, and something like bitter disappointment coming from his glare. He has to know what is beneath that, he has to know what would make Hubert quietly press his lips onto his like that… 

It is risky and untoward—unforgivable, even. But he knows no other way to get through to him but to repay him in kind. Ferdinand leaps forcefully between Hubert and the door, seizing him by the collar of his cloak and pulling him downward in one swift motion that ends with Hubert’s mouth against his once more. He kisses him frantically, unsure whether kisses should be long and unbroken, or lots of small ones, so he tries both, only lasting a few seconds. But he feels like he is drawing something that he desperately needs out of Hubert. 

When he breaks apart, the room is deafeningly silent. He is not sure Hubert is even breathing.

“ _ Now _ will you listen to me?” he begs, eyes nearly crossing from their proximity.

Hubert’s face is inscrutable. He inhales slowly, shoulders apprehensive. He looks shaken.

“I—Wait…” he says quietly, and then leans in again so their foreheads are nearly touching. He lingers, and Ferdinand realizes he is savoring the feeling of them being close together. He can feel the warmth from his body glowing just inches from him, still just out of reach. After a few fragile moments, he draws himself up again and takes a deep breath.

“Alright, I’m listening.”

A smile of relief washes over Ferdinand, but then he sighs with exasperation once more. It was  _ Hubert _ who started this, shouldn’t  _ he  _ be confessing his feelings and trying to woo  _ him _ , making amends to win his affections and justify his stolen kiss? Ferdinand’s  _ first _ kiss, mind, a moment he had always planned to make a grand gesture out of, now stolen from him in a whirl of confusion from a man who used to frustrate Ferdinand so much, but from whom he was now so desperate for approval… 

But none of that matters now.  _ Swallow your pride, von Aegir. Just tell him, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your days. _

He clears his throat, faltering. “What I wanted to say was… I think I’m in love with you, Hubert von Vestra.”

Hubert tenses visibly. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to tell you that I wanted you to kiss me again. But… fairly this time.”

Something is wrong. Hubert still looks conflicted, partly like a cornered animal ready to flee. What is holding him back? Does the thought of Ferdinand returning his affections terrify him this much? How is he supposed to gain his trust, then?

Hubert practically mutters, sounding scattered. “It’s… What you want—what  _ I _ want… it’s not that simple…”

“Is it not?” Ferdinand insists, pressing closer and invading Hubert’s shadow with all his vivid colors. He fully expects Hubert to argue back, but instead he fumbles, searching for some last defense. Ferdinand decides to press his luck, taking a gamble. “ _ Do  _ you want me, Hubert?”

“Yes,” he whispers, both grudging and resigned. “But my will does not matter, it is—”

“Oh for SEIROS’ SAKE,” Ferdinand cries. “This isn’t about duty, it is about your reluctance to trust someone! I’ve come to accept that nothing I do will make me worthy in your eyes, that for some reason I’ll always seem beneath you, but—”

“That isn’t true,” Hubert interrupts quietly, with surprising conviction.

Ferdinand is well and truly bewildered now. “Then,” he places a hand on Hubert’s chest pleadingly, “if you care for me, will you not consider  _ my _ will in the matter?”

Hubert meets his gaze nervously, hesitating, as if he had not factored this into his calculations.

Taking a steadying breath, Ferdinand finally speaks the words he has been aching to shout at Hubert for months now. He is surprised to hear the pain in the edges of his own voice, the ache of his own longing.

“Could you just let yourself love something for your own sake, for once… and could you let it be me?”

Suddenly something seems to crumble behind Hubert’s eyes, like ice shattering into the Northern sea in the spring thaw. He peers at Ferdinand oddly, then slips into a weary smile. Hope flares up in Ferdinand’s chest, blazing brightly as Hubert’s defenses appear to fall one by one. The idea that Hubert is able to give Ferdinand something that he desires has shifted something within him. 

He is so close. Without breaking their gaze he takes Hubert by the hand, holding it tenderly between them. 

“I have no way to win your affections, no chance to persuade you that I am deserving of them. All I can do is ask for them. Hubert, please, can you find it in your heart to love me back?”

Hubert looks up at him wearily. “You have no idea how much I already do, von Aegir…”

For a moment, Ferdinand is breathless, never expecting to hear these words from him. Before he can think about how long this adoration must have been building between them, masked behind Hubert’s every word to him, he leans forward again, tilting his chin upward in earnest. He is trembling as his words flow forth almost on their own, their boldness surprising even himself.

“Then… why don’t you show me?

Ferdinand waits until Hubert’s breath is blooming against his cheek and his lips are claimed by a kiss once again. It feels like slipping a noose around his neck and pulling tighter,  _ tighter, _ until he is choked with the lump in his throat. Ferdinand has always imagined his first kisses would be holy, all sweetness and flowers and promises—a gift he would no doubt give to a blushing lady to seal their future. But this is like tearing open a scab, revealing how much pain and emptiness has always been beneath. It is instantly not enough and too much all at once. Like stepping one foot in a scalding bath that sharpens the chill over the rest of the body. His instinct is to leap away, but also to plunge himself in completely and drown himself in it.

When they break apart, Ferdinand is dizzy, praying that his knees do not buckle. He is surprised that the ache of always wanting Hubert close is somehow stronger now, making him feel greedy for the reassurance of his touch. Unexpectedly, Hubert reaches up and takes Ferdinand’s face in his hand, cupping his cheek. His broad palm is worn and rough, with sharp fingers and the singed smells of magic still lingering. It is not delicate, nothing like the hands he has been taught to picture holding someday. It is knotted, firm, and in this moment it is uncharacteristically patient. Somehow this sends another wave of heartbreak through him. A flood of things he has always longed for but believed were impossible breach the surface of his heart. Things he has been taught that a man could not possibly love—the handsomeness of a sharp jawline, the shiver felt from a deep voice, or the thought of drifting off to sleep with his head against a firm, flat chest, knowing their bodies were mirrors rather than complementary. These flashes come quickly, like dozens of needles, and he has to shove them away and force himself to focus on Hubert’s fingers against his skin. He leans into that palm, swallowing back the sting of how achingly sweet it felt. 

Hubert’s fingers skid upward along his cheek and he brushes the corner of Ferdinand’s eye with a gentle smirk. Tears?  _ Now?  _ Is his emotion truly leaking out? This is horribly embarrassing. Ferdinand has a brief moment of panic. If Hubert kisses his lips again, the lump in his throat will surely shatter into some kind of hideous sob. He feels cheated and exasperated that his body is ruining this moment for him.  _ Pull yourself together, von Aegir. _

As if sensing the need, Hubert leans in and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to his forehead. It feels somehow like an apology and a promise at once. It takes Ferdinand a moment for him to recognize the sigh that falls from his own lips. Before he can pull away again, Ferdinand turns and presses his face below the crook of Hubert’s neck, burying himself there and surrounding himself with his clothes, his smell, his skin. The man lets out a single, relieved laugh that is so full of fondness Ferdinand can barely recognize it as his voice. 

“This has been far too long in coming, hasn’t it?” he says quietly into Ferdinand’s hair.

“I fear this is some kind of dream.” 

“Why?” Hubert smirks, kissing his jawline, right up to his ticklish earlobe. “How long have you been dreaming of me, Ferdinand?”

Something seizes Ferdinand with confidence, and he grabs Hubert by the lapels, catching him off guard. A wisp of surprise and delight flickers in Hubert’s eyes as Ferdinand holds him firmly. “It would be unbecoming of me to tell you with any honesty.”

“Flames,” Hubert breaths a laugh, noticeably shaken. “Ferdinand... are you sure it’s me you want?”

Ferdinand picks himself up, standing his ground. He must take this chance to show Hubert his true feelings. He wants to give a thousand declarations, but he knows they would all ring hollow in Hubert’s ears. It has been maddening, knowing that all the ways Ferdinand understands love and proper courtship are undoubtedly meaningless to Hubert. Ferdinand is left with nothing—no script or tactics, not even his instinct to guide him. Worse still, everything he has been taught is about how a noble gentleman should approach a  _ lady _ . In a way, having to abandon it all is freeing—a relief, even. Something tells Ferdinand that there is more hollowness in all their biased ceremony if they require his partner to be a woman anyway. 

Ferdinand shakes his head. “No one else. I want only you. And I want all of you. If I cannot have that… then tell me now so I may give up hope while I still can.”

“Perhaps that would be the wise thing to do. I’m not quite sure why you seem to have set your heart on me in the first place,” Hubert smiles wryly, retreating behind a mask again.

“Oh, I tried not to, believe me. I tried  _ everything _ I could think of.”

Hubert laughs suddenly, louder and more abrupt than his typical measured, sinister chuckle. It may be the first time Ferdinand has heard his true, unrestrained voice. It pinches his heart and he feels an odd swell of protectiveness for this deadly man who has never needed protection from anyone. He has seen the lid lift on Hubert’s carefully guarded persona, and he is  _ desperate _ to glimpse more. His mind races, looking for ways to capture the man he had just seen and make him his, always, with no need for the mask in his presence. Hubert finishes his laughter and sighs, restlessly brushing back a long strand of Ferdinand’s hair and tucking it behind his ear.

“You know, Ferdinand…” he admits quietly, “so did I. I even convinced myself I succeeded, for a while. But it seems we’re both no match for our own foolish hearts.”

Ferdinand raises an eyebrow. “I fail to see what is foolish about loving me, I am an honest and devoted companion who would never try to murder anyone in their sleep. It has even been said that I am quite the catch, you know.”

Hubert laughs again, with a hint of exasperation, but Ferdinand sees deeper inside that crack this time. The wave of affection wells up inside him and crashes against itself, trying to break through and flow over in his words, his eyes, his hands—some way it can spill over onto Hubert. To his surprise, Hubert meets his eyes and seems to recognize the adoration there and falls still, a gentle smile hovering on his mouth.

“I will answer you now, and put you out of your misery,” he says. 

Ferdinand braces himself.

Hubert draws close, taking Ferdinand’s hands and speaking with his soft, forceful sincerity. “You have me, Ferdinand. You have all of me. And I will claim you in return.”

The noose tightens again, but this time it seems to snap and fall away altogether. Ferdinand, ever eager, feels the need to match Hubert’s declaration.

“I love you, Hubert. Fiercely so. Frighteningly, in fact… I have not the words for it.” He laughs sheepishly.

Hubert breathes a small laugh as well, shaking his head as if he could expect nothing less. His smile changes shape, as if he cannot hold it back any longer, and he leans in again.

“Then for once in your life, Ferdinand, do not speak.”

And this time, they are in agreement. Ferdinand kisses him, pressing upward on raised toes, rising to the challenge as the brim of his heart overflows. Is it enough? Is he doing this right, does his stinging maelstrom of emotion come across merely through this fumbling of their lips? Perhaps he should press harder, or… longer? Does Hubert want his hands to be gentle or firm?

To his surprise, Hubert is following his lead, as if his mouth is listening, soaking in all that he has to say and waiting to respond in kind. It makes Ferdinand more bold, his eyebrows pinched together in sincerity, trying both to hold back and give more. His fingers splay out over the wool of Hubert’s coat, winding his arms around his slightly broad chest that stands just higher than his own.

All the ideas he has been taught implicitly, sometimes explicitly, about how he could never find happiness like this with another man… or that no matter what, as a noble it is his duty to take a wife… all of that seems so utterly ridiculous and insulting now. This—to finally be loved by the man who had once carried nothing but spite for him, to be held as if he were a priceless treasure finally returned to the hands of its owner—this is perhaps the only thing that has felt truly real in Ferdinand’s entire life.

He smiles to himself. In all his hypothetical plans for wooing, none of them have involved someone kissing him first, by accident or not. Ferdinand always envisioned himself professing and, in time, persuading someone to love him back with his unrivaled affections and attentiveness. Perhaps he has never truly desired a lady’s love to begin with, and that is why he wanted it entirely on his terms. Whatever the reason, the intensity of Hubert’s words pierce straight through his armor to his heart, holding him captive in a brief moment of awe. He stares, dazzled, into Hubert’s eyes, as another tiny dream he hadn’t known he harbored suddenly comes true. How many more secret wishes are hidden in the depths of Ferdinand’s heart, waiting to surface until they are answered by Hubert?

His thoughts are parted by another sweltering kiss, blurring the edges of his mind and making the room seem hazy. He senses Hubert’s tongue slip past his lips and he gasps, melting under the heat of it like chocolates left in the sun. He feels perhaps his heart is being devoured by a vampire drinking from his lips rather than his neck. 

Even as he is being introduced to the movements of Hubert’s tongue, a song creeps into his mind—one he had sung since he was a boy without truly understanding its meaning. His mind echoes softly with the tune.

_ Your sun sets in my mouth  
_ _ My wild wind is your breath,  
Your ache is my sweetness  
_ _ And my love fears no death _

_ If there be ever any truth  
In this realm, you are mine  
_ _ You are mine  
_ _ You are mine _

It makes Ferdinand feel both strangely childish and old all at once. The lump tightens in his throat again as his emotion rises, and Ferdinand has to pull breathlessly away from their kiss. He worries it might offend him, but Hubert seems nearly pleased that Ferdinand is overwhelmed by him. His head is spinning, he truly needs to catch his breath and sit before his knees give out. He leans a little on Hubert, who gives a satisfied chuckle.

“Enough for one day?”

“Well, perhaps for the moment,” Ferdinand says faintly, clinging to him. Almost instinctively, Hubert holds him close, absently brushing a hand over his wavy copper hair, which Ferdinand notices is another unknown wish coming true. Just as he regains his composure, Hubert fulfills the one wish Ferdinand  _ has _ known he was waiting to hear.

“Well, then. What next for us,  _ my love? _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Shoutout to Chryselis for encouraging me not to just let my WIPs be WIPs :)


End file.
